The Brave Tin Soldier
by animegus farmus
Summary: Brave, courageous, dauntless, indomitable, Cain.
1. The Brave Tin Soldier

_Disclaimer: Like the Han Christian Anderson fairy tale, I do not own Tin Man but that does not stop it from enriching my life, one way or another._

_Author's Note: Well it's been a while since I did one of these. I figured since Gulch is demanding some down time and the Game Night Series is not cooperating at present, I might as well have a go at a fairy tale I've been wanting to do for a while. I've always kind of liked it, as it left quite the impression on my young mind, and the tone is something I've wanted to have a crack at. Hope you enjoy._

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There once was a brave young tin man who dedicated his life to the protection of the Realm and its people. He was an honourable man, well known in Central City for his integrity, respected by friend and foe alike for his grit. When darkness fell on the Realm he stood steadfast, refusing to bow his head to evil, determined to fight for what was right.

For this he paid most dearly.

His family was lost to him, taken as he was locked away to endure annuals of torment, his wife killed, his son left to grow up an orphan in a land at war. For almost a decade the tin man did not know what had become of them, for near a decade all he knew was the sight and sound of his greatest failure. And then one day his prison was opened, and an old, emotionally battered Tin Man fell back into the world.

The first thing he saw was the young, blue eyed girl that was and would be his salvation.

For when the Tin Man first stepped back onto the brick road, his thoughts were only of vengeance, of the dark path that led to the end of it all. It was her presence that forced him to clothe himself once more in the tattered remnants of his honour, her quest to save the Realm that forced him to remember all that he once was – and must be again.

Because in the end the Tin Man could never be anything but steadfast.

And so, even now that the task has been accomplished and the Realm freed, the Tin Man continues to watch over the young woman – the princess as it turns out – as she rediscovers this brave new world that was once her home. She sparkles and shines as she flits about the palace, determinedly learning how to fill the role she suddenly finds herself thrust into as the future ruler of the O.Z. At the balls she is more radiant still, ever defiant to the pomp and ceremony that she so hates, laughing and dancing about, that light shining in her eyes, beguiling all who look upon her, making her subjects love her dearly.

Perhaps none more so than the Tin Man.

He tells himself to look away, not to wish for what is not, _cannot_ be his – but he pretends not to hear because she is flitting this way and he never can help but bask in the glow of her presence. It should concern him how often she shuns the company of her peers in favour of her rag tag group of friends, he _should_ stop her from neglecting the attentions of her eligible young suitors in order to pull him into the dance instead, but he doesn't. Never will you hear the Tin Man fault her for that loyalty which is her greatest strength.

And in the end it is his, too.

War came upon them unexpected, an outside Realm perceiving the O.Z. as weak, easy prey after the devastation that was the Sorceress' reign and the civil war that encompassed it. The call to arms went up and to the Tin Man there was no other choice but to answer, for long ago he had sworn to protect this Realm, and ever will he stand steadfast between danger and the princess that dwells at its heart.

Also, he promises not to fall out of any windows.

The battles stretch out over months and then into annuals, taking the Tin Man far from the land and the people he sought to protect. From the scorching sands of the Deadly Dessert to the rain sodden forests of Ev the war raged on, taking the brave defender to places darker than he'd ever been, than he'd thought he'd ever go. But through it all his thoughts turned to the princess, the memory of her laughter and her life shining like a light to lead him through the blackness. Once he was thought lost at sea, but the Tin Man stood firm against the odds and made his way through the gales as if they contained his own personal compass.

And then one day, like a miracle, the war was over and he could at long last follow his heart home again.

He almost didn't believe it when he saw her again, so long had her image been held carefully in his mind, accompanying him on his journey. It was hard not to, though, when she threw herself forward into his arms, the solid impact of her youthful exuberance almost knocking him over. And he wanted nothing more than to keep her there.

There was just one thing he had to do first.

It was in the old cabin, on a dark and stormy night, that he found it, just where he left it what seemed a lifetime ago – a lifetime, perhaps, just a little too long. For, as if by some last cruel spite of fate, a bolt of lightning slammed into the wood dwelling, knocking the Tin Man from his feet, shattering the roof…

…and setting it ablaze.

Pinned and disorientated, the Tin Man fought to free himself, the image of his princess dancing before his eyes. The future he wanted to have…but he struggled in vain against the weight trapping him, the fire growing brighter and brighter as if in mockery of the light that had become his guide. So bright, in fact that he could almost swear he saw her amongst the flames. Even as he thought it, the fire seemed somehow to grow hotter yet, as if his focusing on her image fanned the fire into still greater a fury, consuming the old cabin, leaving nothing behind but the melted remains of his gun…and the ring he meant to give her…

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Wyatt Cain wakes up in a world of white.

It is calm there, peaceful, his mind floating in a strange sea of fuzzy contentedness as he traces a gaze across a white ceiling, down white walls, over the white sheets of that seem, oddly enough, to cover him, and finally fixates on the white bandage-clad hand wrapped firmly around his own – a hand that is attached to a certain princess who is currently a great deal paler than he'd like, and whose eyes begin to shine once more as they meet his own. The sparkling promise of tears leads to the abrupt exit of a disgruntled looking man Cain had previously overlooked, who grumbles about DG's intrepid fiery rescues resulting in the need for further intrepid fiery rescues – because, apparently, DG had decided to cheat fate this one time more.

She is all for romantic endings, after all, she just prefers the ones that include 'and they lived happily ever after…'


	2. Paper Ballerina

_Disclaimer: I can't afford to own anything so borrow it I shall._

_Author's Note: There was enough questions about the last one to seriously offend muse. This was the result. Hopefully it is answer enough. Now excuse me, I have to go be growly._

_PS Dedicated to Lcsaf, thanks for the help with the ballerina lingo.  
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There once was a farm grown princess who was twice stolen from everything she had ever known. First was when she was very young, a curious child who had wandered carelessly far from home. The price of her blunder had been the loss of all she held dear: her family, her homeland, even her memory, leaving her stranded in a world that became familiar but never felt quite right. Leaving her ever searching for the magic that she almost knew should be there, but finding only the mundane instead.

Not unlike a ballerina, reaching always towards the heavens yet never able to quite escape the return to the floor.

The second time came as a thief in the night, searching her out, stealing its way into the only world she remembered. For while she had forgotten her home it had not forgotten her, not entirely. Darkness reached out for her, the enemy of her shrouded past lashing out blindly to extinguish the Light it had found, but the agents of that Light intervened. And so the princess who didn't know she was a princess found herself stranded and alone, on the other side of the rainbow.

There she found destiny waiting, and a tin soldier in a box.

Memory of her true Realm fractured and faded, haunted by disjointed dreams, and prodded ever onward by elusively familiar strangers, the long lost princess tread blindly along a path her heart _almost_ remembered but that her head nearly didn't believe. She was not alone in her quest, however, for she had found friends to help her along the way, and a steadfast tin soldier had her back.

And in the end, there had been just enough light to show her the way.

Then the real work began, because being a real live princess isn't all dress balls and glass slippers; it's lessons and meetings and trying to keep a kingdom together while simultaneously preventing it from killing her newly discovered big sister. Some days she even thinks the balls are the worst of it, overflowing as they are with important dignitaries and noble suitors. None of the airs and graces required feel natural as she muddles her way along, desperately applying the very diplomacy that ever failed to talk her way out of a ticket. But she can't forget whose the erring step it was that rent the Realm. So she does not complain, merely tries to pretend she's at a barn dance amongst friends. Praying all the while that she doesn't lose the person she was in the person the O.Z. needs her to be.

It's like asking a ballerina to perform an arabesque en pointe…and hold it forever.

And yet that is alright, because she still has her new friends to help her and a loyal tin soldier still has her back. When the constant press of suitors becomes too much, when she thinks if she has to utter or listen to one more diplomatic platitude she is going to scream, when her smile becomes strained and that air of gentility begins to crack, he never fails to lend her a hand or an ear or a moment's fresh air. She doesn't know why he's stuck around this long – he hates the pomp and the circumstance every bit as much as she does – but she is so glad that he does, for he lends her the immeasurable balance of letting her be herself.

And then some greedy bastard had to go and start a war.

She couldn't say she was surprised when she heard he'd answered the call to arms, the princess knew too much of the steadfast tin soldier for that, but that doesn't mean she liked watching him ride away. Perhaps even more so because of message she thought she read in his eyes before they'd disappeared behind that wide hat brim. That silent promise that makes her hope that just _maybe..._

He damn well _better_ not fall out of any windows.

Waiting has never been her strong suit, nor has she ever gotten used to the idea of being too important to do anything. Not that she does nothing. Waiting is never easy, but doing _something_ at least helps the time pass. Those airs and graces are the first to wear away, the nobles watch in astonishment as their princess vanishes in the wake of an industrious farm girl waiting for her soldier to come home. It's an old story on the Otherside, one that can end so many ways, and so many of them unhappily. And no way of finding out how this story will go but wait out the years…

…and apply diplomatic butt-kickings until they bring her battered old tin soldier home.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder, neither tin soldier nor princess would argue the statement as she flung herself into his arms at last. That message in his eyes has gotten louder, become a question he doesn't ask quite yet. There was something he had to do first, if she would just wait one more day…

She's really never been that good at waiting.

The cabin was on fire when she arrived, it lit up like a match to paper as she broke through the trees, following him because she could this time. She knew going in that she couldn't pull him out. He's more than twice her size and pinned beneath the collapsed roof besides. But then, pulling him out never was the plan. The flames blazed up into a raging inferno as she called the wind to her. Common sense dictated against adding fuel to the fire but she only needed it for a moment.

Just long enough to call the storm.

What she hadn't intended on was taking the fire with them. It wasn't as bad on this side, not yet, but the old wooden farmhouse was no less flammable than an old log cabin, all it needed was time. And the tin soldier was in no condition to help her. Exhausted, desperate, she struggled to pull her brave tin soldier from the burning wreckage she had once called home. Knowing she couldn't, knowing she wouldn't leave him there.

So many ways for the story to end, so few of them happy…

This one's end begins with an almost curse, and the mundane turned magic in the form of the neighbour that sees the blaze and comes to help. The kind that will walk right into that fire if need be. And suddenly there is a pair of helping hands and a set of strong shoulders beside her in the flames, aiding her in hauling the Tin Man to his feet, dragging him out between them, muttering encouragement all the way as they fight their way clear. Then they're lying beneath the open sky, sucking in that miracle called oxygen, and she can hear the sirens in the distance, coming ever closer. There's going to be some explaining to do, not to mention tomorrow to worry about, because suddenly it isn't an end after all.

Which is just as well, DG always was more interested in the ever after anyhow.


End file.
